CHAPTER 4

A comparison between the proclamation of faith of the early Church, as just outlined, and a modern catechism or theological compendium presents a rather profound contrast. On the one hand we find a simple message, a graphic picture; and on the other, a complicated structure of concepts, divisions, distinctions. But the contrast is no greater, we are justly reminded, than that between the seed and the full-grown plant of the parable of God’s Kingdom (applying it, however, only to the particular area of doctrine). Despite differences of appearance, both are of the same nature. As the seed had to expand and change its form, so also God’s word, under the supervision of the magisterium, had to be sown in the soil of man’s inquiring mind, had to send out roots and branches into the many regions of human ignorance, had to give answers to many questions. And thus it became a tree in which the birds of the air could dwell. From the simple preaching of the Apostles there arose the bold structure of Catholic dogma and scholastic theology.

The mention of Scholasticism today, however, not infrequently runs into vigorous opposition, at least in connection with questions bearing on the proclamation of the faith. Is not the very reason why our proclamation has lost its cohesive unity and dynamic impact to be found right here, in the intellectualistic dissection and refinement of the great integrated whole of the Christian message, whatever be its validity as a development of this vital core? Was not Scholasticism the deceptive road that would surely lead to a separation between religious knowledge and religious life? In the light of this problem we should first of all consider what is the relationship of theological science to the proclamation of the faith and examine to what extent the former may be held guilty for the unhappy situation of the present day.

What led to the development of theology, and ultimately to Scholasticism, was the necessity of giving answers to questions, not so much to those about the plain demand of salvation, but rather to questions raised by captious, critical reason – questions which generally took the form of attacks by enemies. Thus, when Celsus directed the first systematic attack on Christianity from the side of pagan philosophy, Origen not only countered with an apology but also was the first to oppose it with a systematic presentation of Christian doctrine. Similarly every new error has called for countermeasures against its misinterpretations of traditional doctrine. Such measures have necessarily led to a certain demarcation of the point under attack through the effort at clearer understanding and more accurate exposition and thus prepared the way for a definite formulation of the point at issue by means of new concepts. Thus the Christological struggles of the fourth and fifth centuries, as well as the controversy on grace provoked by Pelagius, were particularly notable for the abundance of new concepts they introduced.

This development of the first positions of faith, occasioned in large part by heresy, was bound to lay ever greater claim to recognition as something valuable in itself. The search for truth, in whatever area it may be attained, is one of man’s worthiest and noblest endeavors. It was to be expected then, thata periodofoutstanding intellectual activity and lively philosophical interest could not long refrain from approaching even revealed truth with the tools of philosophical thought, with a view to constructing a universal synthesis which would harmoniously unite the findings of nature with the insights that had been revealed from heaven. And thus it was that the cultural flowering of the Middle Ages brought Scholasticism along with it. Only through such a development would it become evident that belief in God’s word is conformable with reason and that reason can show that, though there are mysteries in the content of faith, it cannot prove that there are contradictions. And, actually, this was the only way in which faith itself could develop its capacity to offer enlightenment to critical speculation that transcended in any way a naturally derived knowledge.

Had this task not been performed, the faith might have ]ooked forward to the day when philosophy, and therewith the natural alone, would have taken possession of life with a view to solving its riddles and determining its course with only the means available to natural intelligence. We have seen this happen in the case of nineteenth century Protestantism. In so far as it was satisfied with a separation from the realm of theoretical reason (a legacy of Kantian philosophy, with roots in Luther) and restriction to the irrational and the world of feelings, it had, in consequence, to abandon any clear-cut, thought-binding dogmatics. A religion whose teachings could no longer lay claim to an accurate grasp on the established realities of life was bound to lose its influence on that life; it was bound to become a thin thing of mood which one put on when Sunday arrived.

The separated Eastern ecclesiastical communities that had no d not built up a scientific theology had also to experience the threat of losing a thousand year long heritage through Contact with the biting air of modern intellectual thought.

During the period of the Enlightenment, Catholics witnessed a decline in theology in the face of the philosophical preoccupations of the time. The accompanying deterioration of religious life was not fortuitous, any more than it was just chance that the subsequent renaissance of Scholasticism went hand in hand with the Catholic restoration. The sense of reality which characterizes the Catholic Church – a spirit which manifests itself in a scientific and above all systematic development of its theology – has made it possible for her to master life, to illumine fearlessly, time and time again, the reality of this world by one which transcends it, and to measure up to that reality.

Despite all this, it would certainly be a mistake were one to be of the mind that the proclamation of Christian doctrine should be primarily determined by scientific theology. A mistake, too, were one to look only for an epitome of a Summa Theologica in a catechism, or were he in the hope of finding the divisions and distinctions of a theological treatise in a sermon. One would likewise be mistaken were he to desire that the forms and formulas of prayer and divine worship be given the sober clarity of theological concepts. In connection with inclinations of this sort Cardinal Newman once tartly remarked, "Let us in consistency take chemists for our cooks, and mineralogists for our masons" (An Essay in Aid of a Grammar of Assent. New York: The Catholic Publication Society, 1870, p. 92). Indeed, since the task of proclamation is essentially different from that of scientific theology.

Scientific theology is everywhere concerned with the question of truth. Its speculative work begins at the point where the obscurity of faith casts its first shadows, where one doctrine seems to conflict with another or with something known by natural reason. Here it must distinguish, define, prove, solve. On this basis the most fruitful sections for dogmatic theology are those which deal with the nature of the processions in the most blessed Trinity, with the hypostatic union in Christ, with the cooperation between liberty and grace, with the mode of operation of the sacraments, and the like.

Obviously, stones supplied ready-hewn by revelation also fit into the structure – God’s omnipotence, Christ’s position as Mediator, the institution of the individual sacraments. But these do not give the work of theology its definite stamp; it is found, rather, in those areas where light wrestles with darkness, where God’s word encounters human knowledge and seeks a solution in the human mind. The solutions that are found must then be supported and every attainable conclusion deduced from them. And ultimately there is the task of coordinating and systematizing all this material, shaping it into a corpus doctrinae whose cohesiveness offers new assurance for the validity of adopted solutions. The task of theology will only be finished when the deepest penetration into revealed reality, possible to man, has been attained, when all the gold of God’s word is minted into the conceptual coin of theology.

The task of proclaiming the Christian message, however, is of an entirely different sort. Without doubt, it presupposes scientific knowledge. Clear concepts are of utmost advantage. For this reason our candidates for the priesthood devote years to theology. The meaning of this theological study, however, is not to be found in this that they shou1d later give this theology back to the faithful in more compendious form and less finished terminology. Rather this study should be of such a nature that their own philosophi-cal-religious thinking should come to share in the analytically well-wrought clarity of that synthesis which is the work of our entire Christian past. The young priest should acquire an intellectual steadfastness by his own work of testing and acquiring information so that, as a herald of God’sword, he may worthily proclaim that message amid the present welter of opinions. The objective certainty of the Church’s position should become a subjective psychological certainty within himself. This specialized knowledge, however, is not necessary for the faithful. Generally speaking, they need not be theologians. But they should be able to feel from the tone of the priest’s voice, from his whole appearance, that he has within himself the solution to the problems arising from the encounter of this world and the world beyond. Behind his varied, readily adjusting expressions, which do not shun the actual reality of experience, they should sense the reality of the religious about which he speaks, and through him the Church.

A second benefit, just suggested, which the priest acquires, or should acquire from his study of speculative theology, is a greater capacity of adjustment to the needs of his hearers. A priest would scarcely have the full reward of his time and energy if, at the completion of his studies, he only had something negative to show for his office of teaching – a certain strengthened security against error together with a knowledge of what not to say – and if, for the rest, he simply retraced well-trod paths, repeating the phrases he learned as a child in school or heard from the pulpit. No, the study of dogmatic theology and the deepening penetration into its speculation should have led him to something positive – to that intellectual independence and security which would enable him to utilize the full treasure of eternal truth in a thoroughly vital way for the changeable needs of the time and the varying requirements of the community. In fact, the deeper the analysis has gone, the further it has penetrated to basic elements, the greater should be the freedom and flexibility with which the bearer of God’s message brings forth from the store of doctrine that which can furnish the real answer to the questions and longings of the erring children of men.

In this sense the aliqua mysteriorum intelligentia eaque fructuosissima of which the Vatican Council speaks (Sess. III, c.4) – that deeper understanding which is to be gained from the connection of mysteries with one another and with neighboring areas of natural knowledge – should not only beof assistance to the research theologian but also to the one who proclaims God’s word. But this fruit can only ripen in one who does not remain stationary out of love for a system but who pushes on constantly from the logical unity of the system to the theological unity of the Good News – to the end-purpose of the divine plan of salvation, in which all mysteries are united in "the mystery of His will" (Eph. 1:9) unto the fullness of the message of salvation. There is question here of a task which the theology professor will not, of course, expect his students to master on their own – a task, too, which depends in an important way on work in the fields of Scripture, the Fathers, liturgy, in addition to an intelligent study of dogma.

It is here, however, that one finds the real difference between theology and the proclamation of the faith. Theology is primarily at the service of knowledge; hence it investigates religious reality to the outermost limits of the knowable (verum) and struggles here for the last little piece of truth that can be grasped, without asking in each instance about the significance such effort may have for life. The proclamation of the faith, on the other hand, is entirely orientated toward life. Hence it considers this same religious reality wholly under the aspect of how it is a motivating goal of our efforts (bonum). From the wide assortment of matter offered by theological analysis, all that is mere knowledge falls outside its purview, and only that has significance which offers guidance and leads to the goal, which corresponds to the demands and requirements of salvation. Basically, the proclamation of the faith needs knowledge only about the way which leads to God, about its beginnings and critical turns, about its ramifications and its endings. Its proper subject is and remains the Good News – what was called the kerygma in primitive Christianity. Dogma must be known; the kerygma must be proclaimed.

This does not mean, however, that kerygmatic knowledge must be superficial knowledge. The pastoral ministry has always recognized different stages of religious instruction, from catechism for the smallest to religious conferences for the learned. The bearer of God’s word will avail himself of varying depths within the analyses of scientific theology in accordance with the intellectual level of his hearers; but these analyses have only a subservient function with regard to the proclamation of the faith. However desirable on other grounds the spread of theological knowledge may be among the educated, the proclamation itself is always the message of salvation; for the meaning of Christianity is not knowledge but life, not theology but holiness.

It follows from this that the proclamation of the faith has a method which is essentially different from that of theology. In its arrangement of material it need not be especially concerned with reproducing the ontological order of all things which come under the light of revelation, as is the case with theology. The arrangement will be determined rather from the viewpoint of man and to that extent, psychologically, since there is question of giving man an orientation for life. From the standpoint of content, questions about the inner life of God will come less to the fore than those which lead to a recognition of God as the source and true home of man. Hence the economy of salvation will, above all else, be the central theme. The actual presentation will be in no great hurry to analyze conceptually the great salvific events. Above all else there should be central unity: Christ as the bearer of grace and grace as life in Christ * – this is the fruitful seed it will plant in the souls of men.

Generally speaking, less attention will be given to the scientific refinement of concepts than to the elucidation of their inherent values. It will show a preference, therefore, for what is concrete and comprehensive. It will especially favor those graphic ideas which have been preserved for us in the proclamation of the Apostles and the Fathers – ideas, which though they often defy strict definition, nonetheless open up wide vistas of faith’s teaching to understanding and appreciation: Christ as the new Head of mankind, the Church as the Body of Christ, the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, re-birth, divine sonship. In a word, it will prefer the original, simple modes of expression of Sacred Scripture to the sharply defined language of the School, and will be conscious of the fact that the comfortable house of kerygmatic theology¹ must first be raised on the firm foundations of dogmatic theology.

It would be a great mistake to lay the blame for the partial failure of today’s proclamation of the faith on the dissection of the deposit of faith that was introduced by scientific theology, and notably by Scholasticism. This dissection was necessary, as were the clear concepts it achieved, but it was certainly not undertaken with a view to its adoption for the proclamation of the faith. If this happened to some extent, the blame should not be put on theological science as such but on the proclamation of the faith which was so little aware of the distinctive nature of its task.

This intrusion on the part of theology can be explained in part by apologetical interest or by apologetical necessity. When heresies arose and sought proselytes among the people, it became necessary to oppose them with accurate ideas, even in the area of popular instruction. In such a situation one had to receive gratefully the distinctions and clarifica-tions which theological controversy and science had elaborated. The only question, however, was this: how far back within the area of the customary proclamation of the faith should the defense lines be moved? Might the noise of battle be excluded at least from the inner circle of religious life, kept, for instance, from changing ancient liturgical forms in order to combat, say, Arianism? The defense against the erroneous doctrines of the Reformers introduced a strong militant attitude into the proclamation of the faith. Differences in doctrine had, of course, to be stressed, but there was a strong temptation to do so in the technical language of theology. The necessity of defending the faith as the indispensable support of Christian life makes such a procedure appear most justified during the time of danger. It is unfortunate, however, that the proclamation of the faith has not always possessed the vitality which would have enabled it, after the defeat of a heresy, to return to a proper balance and to the old harmony of the Good News.

But it was not the necessity of defense alone which led to a partial theologizing of popular instruction. Theological springtimes engender an exhilarating sense of possession and this exhilaration easily leads to an assertion of its possession in an area where it is not needed, particularly when theological science is not accompanied by a corresponding psychological insight. This was true after the flowering of Scholasticism in the Middle Ages. Erasmus poured out his scorn on the subtle distinctions and doctrinaire themes of late-medieval preaching. For the first time catechisms gave expression to the growing predilection for manifold classifications and enumerations (for example, of sins, virtues, good works), though they did retain a biblical tone and an orientation toward life.

Even greater was the inroad of theology after the Tridentine renaissance. The small catechisms of Canisius and Bellarmine demanded of children a relatively modest amount of theological knowledge, but when the scientific theology of a later day turned from comprehensive commentaries to revisions of the catechism – around the beginning of the eighteenth century – we soon meet with a veritable flood of instruction-material, all presented in question and answer form, and all manifesting an exaggerated esteem of pure knowledge. This tendency reached its zenith at the time of the Enlightenment, when it was felt that a definition, employing the abstract language of theology, had to be given for every important concept. (As a case in point, see the Austrian Catechism of 1777.) Here "the six basic truths" which every Christian had "to know and believe" appear along with the Apostles’ Creed. There is likewise a strong casuistic orientation in the teaching on the commandments, for example, in the presentation of the conditions required for a sincere sorrow and valid confession in various possible situations. At this time, too, an exact determination was made of the "acts" one should make before and after the reception of Holy Communion. By clothing definitions in prayer-form, it was felt that by these "acts" prayer had been raised to a higher level.

The eighteenth century, therefore, and its heir, the nineteenth, were characterized by an intrusion of theology into the area of religious proclamation – an area for which it was not designed. In this area, too, the twentieth century has brought on a powerful reaction.

* Italics added by the editor.

¹ In a footnote the author calls attention to the significant task that lies before positive theology with regard to the construction of this "kerygmatic theology." For a later exposition of this point and for a clarification of the greatly controversial term, "kerygmatic theology," see the author’s Handing on the Faith (New York: Herder and Herder, 1959), pp. 398-405.

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